


Three Offers

by robocryptid



Series: Scalpel or Bullet 'verse [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robocryptid/pseuds/robocryptid
Summary: Featuring Scion Hanzo and Blackwatch McCree, this is somehow a PWP that is a sequel to another PWP. McCree tracks Hanzo down again and makes him some offers. Smut happens.





	Three Offers

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to bluandorange for the encouragement, hah. This is technically a sequel to [Scalpel or Bullet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14251671), but since they're both PWPs, you don't have to read that one to follow this except for some very minor details.
> 
> I was not expecting to follow that up, but I guess the Scion Hanzo skin has ruined my brain for any of my other writing.

Jesse’s been tailing him for a couple hours now, watching him go about his business with his bodyguards a half-step behind. Jesse knows who he is now: Shimada Hanzo. Definitely yakuza, definitely high up the food chain, and exactly the kinda guy Blackwatch wants to talk to. Jesse’s goddamned delighted to have the excuse.

He follows them to a nightclub, watches him approach the one with the green hair. They snipe at each other a little, Shimada’s fist rough in green-hair’s shiny shirt. Jesse wouldn’t need to have seen the file to know what this is: siblings, and they don’t like each other much. He watches green-hair fuck off in a huff, and Shimada lights a cigarette and scowls. Both his guards look uneasy, but they fall into line soon as Shimada gestures and starts walking. 

Jesse ducks out of the nightclub after them, lingers outside with the crowd long enough to be sure he doesn’t look like he’s following anybody. He picks up the trail again and catches sight of the bodyguards again soon enough, but he’s lost visual on Shimada himself. 

It doesn’t matter for long. Someone grabs him from behind, drags him into an alley with  _something_ sharp pressed against his back, right at his fucking kidney. He thinks about trying for the gun anyway, but the grip on him changes, slides over his ribs and down to sit low on his stomach, and there’s a voice not far from his ear that he recognizes. “Have you come to kill me, or did you want to suck me off again?”

Jesse laughs at that. He’s a little salty about that blade, but he figures if Shimada wanted him dead, he wouldn’t bother with threats first. He wants something. Jesse forces himself to relax, puts on his best no-threat-at-all stance. “Neither, but consider that second one negotiable,” he says with a grin, makes sure Shimada can hear it in his voice. Shimada lets out a sound that  _might_ be a quiet laugh, and his hand slides to Jesse’s hip and works Jesse’s gun from its holster. He lets off with the blade though, so Jesse turns. 

Shimada’s not even looking at him, instead studying his gun. He’s wearing gloves again — same pair or a pair just like them — and the sight goes right to Jesse’s dick, makes him think about the last time. Shimada turns the gun in his hand, like he’s feeling the weight of it. It’s Blackwatch issued, and Jesse sees the moment it occurs to Shimada that it’s nothing a plain street thug would be carrying. 

“Little forward of you,” Jesse says to distract him. “Normally I don’t let a man touch my gun ’til the third date.”

Shimada doesn’t laugh, but he does smirk and lean into Jesse’s space, taps the flat side of the blade against Jesse’s chest. It’s not even really a threat, more like he’s just thinking about what to do with him. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Got a couple offers for you. One from my boss, one from me.” He grins for him again, and Shimada indulges him with another smirk. “Might want some privacy though. Unless you’re into the public thing.”

Shimada looks him over one more time, seems all business now, and he nods and backs away. He still takes Jesse’s gun though, which is a hell of a thing to do to a man. He even turns his back to Jesse as he tucks the gun behind his belt, and Jesse wonders at that. There wasn’t a whole lot in the file, even with Blackwatch intel; Shimada’s type know how to keep their noses clean. But there was enough to suggest the guy’s not just _stupid_. 

Shimada probably thinks he can handle anything Jesse tries, and Jesse gets a little spike of heat and adrenaline thinking Shimada might not be wrong. They exit the alley together, and the bodyguards are  _right there_ , obviously knew where their boss was the whole time.

They end up in another hotel room, guards posted outside the door again, and Jesse gets another little thrill at the familiarity of the context if not the room. Shimada sits in a chair, jacket off and a glass in hand, Jesse’s gun on the table just within Shimada’s reach. He makes Jesse keep standing. They go over the deal pretty quickly — undermine another family, let Jesse’s “gang” keep their heads down and involvement minimal, help Shimada make a power move against a rival — and Shimada says only that he’ll think about it. 

The lack of commitment’s a little frustrating, same way it’s a little frustrating he still has Jesse’s  _gun_ , but Shimada seems to know Jesse’s not all that invested in the deal anyway. Shimada looks him over, smirks at him again. “And  _your_  offer?” he asks.

“Thought you might like to finish what we started,” Jesse says with a grin.

Shimada eyes him from head to toe and makes a thoughtful sound. “You do owe me. You nearly ruined my favorite suit.” Jesse laughs at that, but before he can say anything, Shimada continues. “Take off your clothes. I wish to see all that this offer entails.”

Jesse laughs again, and he thinks about saying  _no_ just to see what Shimada’ll do. But there’s no good reason except for spite, and Jesse’s not feeling quite so spiteful this time. He starts with the boots; he doesn’t have it in him to make this part all that hot, and he figures the knife’ll be easier to keep hidden if there’s more clothes in the way. He wouldn’t put it past Shimada to demand this to make sure Jesse’s unarmed, but he knows Shimada’s not gonna kill him, not like this. Jesse’s got a good sense of people, and Shimada ain’t the type to play with his food. Still, Jesse won’t give away more than he has to.

Socks and shoes set aside, he meets Shimada’s eye and gets to work on the coat. He’s careful to pull it off and wad it up so Shimada doesn’t see the knife tucked there either. He figures Shimada knows about the one in his belt; he was pressed up close enough earlier. Jesse tugs it free, waves it at him with a wink. Shimada doesn’t look at all surprised, but he does let out a quick, quiet laugh that curls hot in Jesse’s belly.

He starts in on the shirt, holds Shimada’s gaze and tries to take a little time with the buttons. Shimada’s eyes don’t stay on his though. He watches Jesse’s hands and the skin he’s starting to show instead, and he’s not at all shy about it. “Like what you see,  _sir_?” Jesse asks, can’t quite help himself.

Shimada’s eyes narrow in that way that’s impossible to tell if he’s mad or turned on, same as the last time. “I suppose you are acceptable,” he says. Jesse laughs again, watches the way Shimada’s eyes roam over his chest and shoulders as he shrugs out of the shirt.  _Acceptable_ doesn’t seem to cover it, and Shimada’s not really bothering to hide it, no matter what his words say. There’s a naked interest on his face that Jesse can feel like fingers on his spine.

Jesse lets the shirt fall where he stands, and he moves closer to where Shimada’s sitting, close enough Shimada has to tilt his head up and lean back to see him. Jesse stands between his legs and plants his stance wide so Shimada’s knees have to go even wider. He looks good that way, and if he’s threatened at all by a man Jesse’s size who has all Jesse’s weapons, it doesn’t show at all. If anything, he seems to find it amusing. 

Jesse unclasps his belt, pulls the tongue of it loose and then drags the full length of it free from the loops as slow as he can, because Shimada seems to like that in particular. Jesse gets the button and zip undone too, and Shimada tells him, “Touch yourself.”

Jesse’s not gonna argue with that one either. He pries his jeans open and hooks the band of his underwear beneath his balls so Shimada can see, then he takes himself in hand and gives a few slow, careful strokes, showing off as much as he can. “Gonna make a mess of this suit too,” Jesse teases, and Shimada laughs at him again.

“You won’t,” Shimada says, pure matter-of-fact, and something about that’s hotter than if he’d tried to boss Jesse around again. Shimada takes another sip of his drink then stretches to set the glass aside, cool and casual like Jesse’s not right in front of him giving him a show. Then he pushes fingers up Jesse’s thighs, leaves trails of heat lingering in their wake. “You still owe me for the last one.”

Jesse breathes through it, grabs for one of Shimada’s hands to try to get it on him, but Shimada doesn’t budge, just digs his fingers into Jesse’s thigh, hard enough to bruise even through the gloves and tight denim. Jesse remembers pinning him up against the wall and his suspicion Shimada was just playing along. The realization he was right about it adds to the tension slowly gathering in his belly, and he lets out a quiet huff. “Yeah?” he asks, and at least he doesn’t sound as out of breath as he feels. “Be happy to fuck you so good you forget about the suit. Sir.”

Shimada absolutely laughs that time, takes his hands off Jesse and leans back in the chair again. “We will see. Take those off.”

Jesse pries his fingers off his dick and does what he’s told. He’s less graceful about it than he probably could be, but Shimada doesn’t seem to care, just looks Jesse over as he does it, eyes hot on him. Jesse straightens and lets him look his fill, watches him right back. Shimada looks satisfied and a little smug to have Jesse’s compliance, and it’s almost as good a look as when Jesse made a mess of him. Not quite, but good enough Jesse’s happy to go along with it for now,  to drop to his knees at Shimada’s insistence, to help pull his cock free and get his hand and mouth on it. 

“Don’t rush this time,” Shimada tells him. For a moment Jesse’s tempted to hurry it along just to be contrary, but he feels Shimada shift his hips, glances up to see him loosening his tie, and Jesse again does as he’s told. He licks a fat stripe up Shimada’s dick and over the head, then parts his lips and takes him in slow. At the first taste of precome he pulls back, slides his hand up to coax more out and ease the glide back down. Shimada just sighs and tips his head back, fingers slowing on the vest he’s trying to undo, and Jesse thinks  _that’s_ a good look for him too. 

“Want some help with that?” Jesse asks.

Shimada stares back at him for a moment, color slowly rising in his cheeks, then firmly tells him no. Jesse shrugs and gets back to it, lips parted wide so he can take him down a little at a time, nice and slow just like he asked for. He doesn’t give it a lot of suction, just slides lips and tongue up and back down, a little farther each time by tiny increments, one hand pumping slow at the base and the other clenched into the fabric of Shimada’s trousers right above his knee. 

Shimada gets his own shirt undone and shoves a hand into Jesse’s hair, grips it tighter and tighter until Jesse moans around him, feels Shimada’s hips shift again, a slow thrust that slides his cock against the roof of Jesse’s mouth. Jesse catches sight of the bruise on Shimada’s stomach, a faded thing left over from the last time, and he feels a little proud and a little tired of taking his time. 

Jesse hooks an arm around Shimada’s waist and drags him forward on the chair, quick enough that Shimada makes a surprised sound and catches himself with his other hand high on Jesse’s bare back. Jesse dives his mouth down to the base of him and pulls his cheeks in hard on the way back up, tongue pressed in flat. He lets himself get messy again after that, works in sloppy, spit-drenched drags of his mouth until Shimada’s hand in his hair becomes actually painful. Jesse lets him pull his head back, meets his eyes with a sly smile and a slow sweep of the tip of his tongue over the head of Shimada’s dick. 

Shimada’s starting to look a little disheveled again, eyes all pupil and cheeks flushed red. His bottom lip is shiny like he’s licked it recently, and Jesse surges forward to seize his mouth, gets up on his knees and drags Shimada’s hips against his own. Jesse gets two good handfuls of Shimada’s ass and rocks against him, cocks dragging together and smearing slick between their stomachs. 

Shimada lets Jesse have a go at his neck again, and Jesse swipes a tongue up only to discover there’s a taste to him that isn’t skin or soap or sweat. He pulls back and laughs to discover it’s  _makeup_ he’s tasting, and it’s been hiding the fading bruises he left before. It sends a sharp electric thrill through him to think about Shimada still marked up and a mess under his put together facade, sporting the reminder of Jesse as he goes about his dirty business, having to put in  _work_ to cover it up. He worries his teeth against one of those bruises, makes Shimada gasp and buck against him.

He pushes Jesse back with that grip in his hair, hard enough that Jesse winces, but he doesn’t mind too much with the way Shimada’s looking at him, lips wet and parted, his pupils still huge. “Get on the bed,” Shimada says, and it’s damn near a growl. 

“Yes sir,” Jesse says without any of the taunting, just to watch what happens. Shimada doesn’t disappoint with the way his eyes get heavy and his chest rises with a sharp little inhale. 

He gets to his feet, makes his way to the bed without any real hurry; Shimada’s still half dressed and Jesse wants him to look his fill anyway. He thought he might have gotten a good show, himself, but Shimada’s all quick efficiency in pulling off his own clothes. He takes the gloves off too, and Jesse thinks he’s gonna miss them, but the effect is worth it.

Naked, Shimada is a goddamned breathtaking sight to behold. Vain he might be, but his body’s not the kind you get without a hell of a lot of work, and Jesse appreciates every inch of it. He’s all muscle, with powerful shoulders and chest and thighs, and he’s got these huge, intricate tattoos crawling up one arm and down a leg. Jesse wants to lick them both. He figures the sight alone will be enough to keep him warm for a few months, and that’s before Shimada’s on top of him, pushing him down into the mattress and suddenly nothing but hands.

He sweeps his palms up Jesse’s body, over his ribs and up to his chest, and he squeezes, each pec caught in an almost bruising grip. Jesse laughs and flexes for him, just a little, watches Shimada’s dark eyes go darker before he’s leaning over to get his mouth on Jesse’s chest. Jesse thinks he’s gonna get bitten in vengeance, but Shimada barely uses teeth at all, just presses big open-mouthed kisses against his skin and catches his palms on Jesse’s nipples. Jesse feels himself shudder a little, arches into it right as Shimada curls his tongue through the dark hair over his sternum. 

He’s gonna ask how Shimada wants this to go, but Shimada makes it clear enough on his own when he pulls away for a second then drops a condom on Jesse’s chest. Shimada keeps one hand on Jesse’s pec the whole time, still squeezing and occasionally rolling the nipple between his fingers, and he gets the other hand back behind himself, a funny half-smile on his open mouth as he works.

“I could—” 

“No,” Shimada says, and even that shoots a thrill through him. Jesse has to reach around him awkwardly to get the condom on, but then Shimada pushes him back, makes him  _watch_ as he opens himself up with his other fingers kneading against Jesse’s chest. Jesse pets at Shimada’s big thighs and hips, spread wide as they are across Jesse’s thick waist. 

Shimada takes his time, knows he’s being watched and seems to enjoy himself that way, but eventually he pulls back and up, and Jesse slides a hand over his ass and pulls to hold him wide open, holds his cock steady for Shimada to sink himself onto. Shimada’s face goes a little soft as he works himself down, breaths coming out a little harsher than before. It’s hot and tight and welcoming, and Jesse has to focus to keep from bucking right up into him.

Shimada rocks down, and he moves slow like he has nowhere else to be, like this is something luxurious for him. Jesse thinks he should be surprised by it, but he isn’t, really. Shimada’s just here for himself in the end, and nothing makes that plainer than the way he slides slow and languorous on Jesse’s dick, treating even Jesse’s attention like it’s all just for him, like Jesse’s less person than he is accessory. It shouldn’t be hot, but Jesse finds it hard to mind long as Shimada’s also clasped tight and searing around his dick.

When it’s too much to be still any longer, Jesse gets his hands on Shimada’s hips and plants his feet, rolls his hips up into him to try to coax him along, and Shimada sighs and tips forward. He pinches hard at Jesse’s nipple, catches himself with his fingers splayed across Jesse’s collar bone. His thumb slides into the hollow of Jesse’s throat, and Jesse thinks again about those fucking gloves, about Shimada’s hand around his neck, and he groans, thrusts up a little harder this time. 

It’s like Shimada  _knows_. He grins down at Jesse, a cruel thing that shows more teeth than it ought to, and he keeps up his slow pace, refuses to be coaxed or cajoled into any kind of satisfying rhythm. Jesse can feel the tension building up, only to ease off every time Shimada changes up his pace a little. 

“Feel so good, but you’re a fuckin’ tease,” Jesse breathes out.

Shimada pinches his nipple again, hard enough that Jesse arches and bucks into it. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, breathless and amused. “Are you not enjoying yourself?” He still has that cruel little smile. His fingers crawl closer, curl loose at the base of Jesse’s throat, and Jesse tips his head back, makes a sound more animal than man.

Shimada  _laughs_ , and Jesse realizes instantly what Shimada’s been after. Quick and without any warning, Jesse snatches the hand from his throat and rolls them, yanks one of Shimada’s legs up over Jesse’s shoulder and shoves the other to the side. He doesn’t give him any time to adjust before he’s sliding his cock right back inside him, hips working in quick, jagged thrusts. 

Shimada’s laugh this time breaks on a groan, and he leans up and drags Jesse closer by the hair, thigh pressed back under Jesse’s weight like it’s not even an effort to bend that way. He gnashes his teeth against Jesse’s bottom lip, drags him in for a sloppy, biting kiss, and Jesse just lets go, fucks hard into him like he’s wanted to. He has to fist one hand in the sheets and let Shimada work himself off, but he catches Shimada trying to tip his head back, jerks him by the hair back into their panting wet kiss, and Shimada curses into it in English and Japanese before he comes between their stomachs. He goes a little slack, but Jesse doesn’t relent, keeps him clutched up close and presses as deep as he wants into the fierce heat of him, until Jesse finally comes hard, almost knocking their foreheads together with a rough, powerful jerk of his hips.

He breathes through it, manages to keep himself propped up so he doesn’t totally crush Shimada underneath him. Shimada’s pleasant enough about the rest, runs his hands and eyes over Jesse’s own tattoos while they recover. He offers Jesse a cigarette and gives him time to dress, doesn’t bother to stop him from arming himself again or grabbing his gun on the way back out. Jesse wonders again if Shimada’s over-confident or if it’s earned.

“About the offer,” Jesse starts.

Shimada laughs again. “No. I’m afraid that is not in our best interests.” Jesse snorts. He didn’t figure Shimada was all that interested. Shimada hands him something though: a thick business card, no name or affiliation, just a phone number printed on expensive card stock. “You won’t be able to track it, and we will replace it if anyone else calls,” Shimada informs him with a shrug. “But as long as you remain in the city, you may use it. I may even answer.”

Shimada gives him a little smirk, and Jesse laughs, thinks about kissing him but doesn’t. “Helluva gift,” he says instead. “You sure you won’t rethink the offer? Could see you a lot more often that way.”

Shimada’s smirk gets a little wider, a little more dangerous. Jesse feels nervous and thrilled at once at the sight, right before his stomach drops out. “Try not to confuse business and pleasure, _Agent_ McCree. We’ll both be better off.”

**Author's Note:**

> I clearly couldn't stop myself. There is one more -- and actually final! -- installment to this series, a slightly more feelings-heavy PWP called [Just Deserts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14654844).


End file.
